


Allies in an Attic

by Cameo (CameoSF)



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoSF/pseuds/Cameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission doesn't go as expected, but when do they ever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allies in an Attic

Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach happened to be bringing up the rear of his unit when trouble arrived. Agent A was in the lead, followed by B and Z supporting Dr. Lieder, recently freed from political incarceration. They were followed by another civilian, a tall, blond, British thief known sometimes as Eroica, sometimes as Lord Dorian Red Gloria. Their group was making good time moving through the passage, and it looked like they were going to reach an exit without being discovered by the proprietors of the place, the KGB. Guards seemed to be scarce at this hour despite the importance of the prison’s residents.

The door to freedom was in sight when Klaus sensed movement behind him. He side-stepped into a doorway and waited, his automatic primed. When a handful of guards appeared at the end of the corridor, the rest of Klaus’s group had already reached the door, and Z wasted no time kicking it down. All five were through in seconds, or so Klaus thought. He swung into the hall to delay their pursuers and nearly collided with Eroica. Swearing under his breath, Klaus fired toward the guards and ran for the doorway, only to change course abruptly when two more sentries hurried through the broken frame. They’d evidently not seen the rest of his unit.

His new course was down a side corridor, narrower than the other and dimly lit. Halfway along, Klaus could see that it was a dead end. He veered again, down a flight of opportune stairs. Behind him he heard soft fast footsteps, and further back the clomp of a half dozen pair of boots.

At the bottom of the stairway was a door, made of thick wood and securely barred. Klaus checked his ammunition before shooting at it, knowing he had none to waste. He didn’t have to explain his hesitation; his unwanted companion immediately knelt to pick the locks on the metal barricade. Klaus turned to cover them both.

When the guards halted at the top of the staircase, Klaus raised his gun.

“How much longer?” he hissed, glancing at the blond mop of curls.

“A few more seconds,” Dorian replied, and for once he didn’t sound flip. Klaus could see him sweating as he determinedly finagled the rusty padlocks.

The guards concluded there was no ambush awaiting them and began to move cautiously down the stairs. One cried out in Russian upon seeing their quarry and fired wildly. Klaus, stepping automatically in front of his unarmed colleague, returned fire, successfully holding them back. This time when he glanced at Dorian, he surprised a wide-eyed look of wonder.

“Well?” he demanded. An instant later the guards regained his attention by firing again. Their aim had improved: bullets struck the wall around the door, one so close Klaus felt it whiz by his ear. He fired back, still shielding the earl with his body.

At last Dorian swung the bar free and pushed the door open. Klaus didn’t take time to congratulate him; he shoved the blond through and followed, slamming the heavy door behind them. They were outside, as he’d anticipated, in a dark street with no place to hide. Next to the entrance, as if to disguise that fact that it led to a prison, were two stout flower boxes filled with dirt and dead plants. Klaus dragged one in front of the door and tilted the edge under the knob, then gave it a firm kick. Not five seconds later, the guards tried to force the door open, and failed.

“Come on!” Klaus snapped. Assuming that Dorian would keep pace, he set off running toward the center of town.

They reached the business district of the small Eastern Bloc town without hearing any sounds of pursuit. The cobblestone streets were empty and fairly dark, but not for long. Knowing that his subordinates had headed directly for their truck and were halfway to the rendezvous point by then, Klaus did not bother to look for them. He was on his own: correction, they were on their own.

“In here,” he ordered, gesturing Dorian toward a food shop. It was closed up, but compared to the last one, this lock was simple, and Dorian had it open as quickly as if he’d used a key. There were no alarms. They were able to re-lock the door, cross a floor crowded with merchandise, and run up some stairs at the back before the first KGB car appeared on the street.

The upper floor was silent, but it didn’t take them long to realize that it didn’t house stockrooms. Apparently the owners lived over their shop, and they were a large family. Klaus swore again as he considered their options: KGB agents could be searching the street now on foot as well as in cars so they didn’t dare find other shelter. They had to make do where they were.

“Up,” he told Dorian, climbing a second flight of stairs. These were so narrow and cramped that they had to hunch close together by the time they reached the trapdoor at the top. To Klaus’s surprise, it opened onto a decent-sized room, crammed at one end with trunks and boxes, but also containing a bed, chair, washstand, and one small window through which the moonlight shone. It was bright enough to reveal a layer of dust on every surface, but no unwelcome vermin or insect life. The ceiling sloped sharply downward from the center, leaving only a small space where they could stand upright, if they didn’t mind cobwebs in their hair.

“How charming,” Dorian said faintly. Klaus closed the trapdoor and set the straight backed chair on top of it. With a broken leg it was useless to sit on, but would serve as a warning of anyone attempting to enter the attic.

“It will do,” he announced. He wiped grime off a bit of the windowpane and peered out. From that vantage point he could see the entire street, including unmarked cars parked at either end. The KGB weren’t doing a house-to-house, but they showed no signs of moving on. Resigned, Klaus set down his gun and turned to his companion. “Why didn’t you go with the others when you had the chance?”

“I thought you might need me,” Dorian murmured. He went to the washstand and tried the faucet, but all it produced was the thunk and clang of unused pipes. “Sorry.”

“Sit down and be silent,” Klaus instructed, and for once Dorian obeyed. He hung his jacket over the chair back, then sat down on the bed, pointedly refraining from sneezing at the fine dust this stirred up. There was no coverlet, but the mattress appeared intact. Turned over, the lumpy pillows also looked fairly clean. “We will stay here till morning. Once the shop opens, we will sneak out and meet my men. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes, darling, I can handle that.”

Klaus crossed to the bed, torn between relief that the thief had been there to pick the locks and exasperation that he’d been there at all. Eroica hadn’t been needed on this operation; he’d invited himself along at the last minute. Once again Klaus could not swear that his mission would have gone smoother without Eroica’s presence, but he always suspected it was so, and he usually enjoyed telling Dorian as much.

Before he could begin to grouse, Dorian caught his breath and reached up to touch Klaus’s cheek. “Oh my god, Klaus! Your hair!”

Klaus pulled away and went to look in the mirror over the basin. It was almost too dark, but in profile he could see that a solid inch of his hair had been shot off. His left ear was fully exposed.

“It is nothing,” he said shortly. “The bullet missed.”         

“Just barely. If it had been a fraction closer--”

“It wasn’t.”

Dorian had put one hand to his mouth, and didn’t seem inclined to remove it. “You could have been killed!”

“Do not be ridiculous. It is my job. You know that.”

“Not to get yourself killed. You’re Iron Klaus. You’re invincible.”

Klaus scowled, no longer in the mood to berate the Brit just for being there. The latter seemed unusually disturbed by their near miss. “Try to get some sleep,” he suggested, returning to the window. “I will wake you at dawn.”

It was half past two in the morning according to Klaus’s watch. He settled on the floor, leaning against the wall, his gun beside him. On the bed, Dorian stared at him for a minute, then curled up with his back to Klaus. He didn’t say another word, and eventually Klaus heard his breathing grow slow and even. He allowed himself to doze sitting up.

Only two hours had passed when Klaus was woken by sounds from the bed. Dorian was still asleep, but tossing now and muttering to himself. He got louder and louder until Klaus had to intervene.

“Dorian, wake up. You are dreaming. Wake up!” he insisted, kneeling on the ancient mattress. Despite the obvious age of the bed, it creaked less than the floor. “Dorian!”

The blond came awake with a gasp of terror. He sat straight up, blue eyes engulfing half his face. When he recognized Klaus, he sighed in relief and embraced him.

“You’re safe,” he breathed. “Thank god. I dreamed you’d been shot... killed.”

Klaus could feel Dorian’s heart pounding erratically. He squirmed out of his arms. “I have told you, I am fine.”

“It was too close!”

“It was all in the line of duty.”

Dorian wasn’t having any. He reached out to stroke the bit of Klaus’s hair that had been cut short. When Klaus jerked away and started to leave the bed, Dorian sat back in dismay. “Klaus! I’m not going to molest you, I’m just talking. You face bullets, but you run from words?” He shrank further back when Klaus raised his fist. “Don’t hit me! I’m serious!”

Klaus lowered his hand; he wouldn’t have struck the thief for something so trivial anyway, tempting though it often was. “Go back to sleep--”

“Impossible. I’ll just dream about you again.”

“Then sit down over there and shut up.”

Watching to make sure Dorian completely vacated the bed, Klaus stretched out in his place. He was weary; setting his internal clock for dawn, he managed to fall asleep within minutes.

He awoke slowly, lying on his side. The room had grown chilly, but there was a pleasant warmth all along his back and around his waist.

“What do you think you are doing?” Klaus demanded, motionless.

“Covering your back,” Dorian replied with a smile in his voice.

“Fool.”

Klaus brushed his arm aside, rose, and went to the window, where the sun had just begun to peek through. By its frosty light he could make out two men loitering on the street below, looking cold and disgruntled. They were clearly KGB. A minute later he could also smell bread baking and hear movement in the rooms and shop below.

“Ready for breakfast, Darling?” Dorian suddenly asked. Before Klaus could growl at him, the blond grabbed his jacket and started emptying his pockets, producing a variety of fruits and biscuits. He grinned at Klaus’s expression. “They were sitting out last night, asking to be taken. Don’t worry, there was plenty more. No one will miss these.”

“You had better be right. I am counting on no one coming upstairs today, because we may be spending it here.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No.” Klaus accepted an orange and returned to the window. Later, when he judged that the noise downstairs would drown out the sounds of reluctant plumbing, he ran the tap till the thumping stopped and the water cleared. After washing up, he sat down to wait some more.

Dorian was less patient. He nibbled his way through half the food he’d swiped, then paced the floor till Klaus told him to be still. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he decided to start talking again.

“I almost didn’t get you out in time,” he began.

“That is not your job.”

“But that’s why I was there.”

“I thought you were there to annoy me,” Klaus said automatically. He was wondering how long his men would wait for them at the rendezvous point. They’d never left him behind before, but it was vital that they get Dr. Lieder to safety, so he wouldn’t blame them for retreating on schedule. He didn’t doubt his own ability to escape the KGB; what irritated him was the idea of having to do it in Eroica’s company.

“No, there’s no way I can let you walk into danger alone if there’s a chance I can help,” Dorian replied, oblivious to the Major’s other concerns. He also missed the incredulous look Klaus sent him. “I never believed till now that you could be killed, that I could lose you.”

Klaus almost snorted, about to ask how he could lose someone he never had. Then a memory came to him of a NATO gathering where he’d overheard Agent G warning a stranger off, saying that the Major belonged to Eroica. Klaus had thought it an asinine thing to say at the time. On another occasion, when he’d overheard Agent Z tell a colleague that Eroica belonged to the Major, Klaus hadn’t thought it asinine at all.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” he stated, falling back on his usual theme.

“Maybe not. But I’m not sure which would be worse: being here to watch you die or hearing about it afterwards from one of your men.” The foppish blond was clearly in earnest. Even his voice had achieved a lower register.

Klaus would not reveal that he was touched. “If you are going to love a man in my position, you are going to have to risk losing him.” Dorian’s response, the widening of his eyes as he lips twitched, was not what Klaus had intended. “I mean, I will not change my profession to suit you.”

“So I should take it or leave it?” The masculine tone threatened to vanish as quickly as it had arrived.

Klaus wanted to swear. “Yes!”

“I’ll take it.”

“Go to sleep.”

There was silence for half a minute.

“You risked your life to protect me back there,” Dorian remarked. “You put yourself between me and the bullets.”

“You were my quickest way out,” Klaus told him, but he knew that wasn’t strictly true. He hadn’t been thinking that when he’d moved to shield Dorian, nor was it the act of a military man protecting a civilian. Klaus didn’t want to admit to himself what it was. “Besides, if you had gotten shot, you would have slowed me down,” he added stiffly.

“You wouldn’t have left me behind?”

“Of course not. I have never left anyone behind. Not even a verdammt thief.”

Dorian was sober again, his gaze sincere. “I wouldn’t have left you either. No matter how badly you were wounded.”

“If I had been shot in the head, it would have been useless to stay with me.” Klaus knew he was being deliberately callous, but he wanted to see how long the Brit could remain serious. At any moment he expected Dorian to switch moods with a shake of his annoying curls and become the bird-brained hedonist Klaus knew so well.

“Don’t even say that,” Dorian protested. “You may not believe I care about you, Klaus, but I do. Why do you really think I go along on your missions? I don’t get anything out of them. There was nothing worth stealing in that prison.”

“You enjoy getting in my way.”

“I enjoy being near you, oddly enough, even when you’re loud and nasty. But that’s not why I tag along. I know you’re going to be rude to me. I keep hoping something will change, that I’ll be able to prove myself to you somehow. That you’ll realize that I really do love you--”

“Do not start that again--” Klaus groaned.

“I’m sorry if you think it’s an old song. It’s the only tune I know.” For once Dorian’s glittering smile was tamed. It was in fact rather wistful.

Deciding not to indulge his curiosity after all, Klaus turned his back to look out the window once more. The KGB men had not moved on. It was mid-morning and he could see a steady stream of customers entering and leaving the shop. Hating inaction even more than Eroica’s interference, Klaus grunted and sat down on the floor again, unconsciously pulling his weapon closer like a security blanket.

“Klaus--” Dorian said, evidently intending to talk their situation to death.

“Shut up now. If you are not going to get any more sleep, allow me to,” Klaus requested, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall.

“On the floor? Come up here. I promise not to touch you.”

“And I am supposed to believe you?”

“Yes. You know my word is good. Have I ever broken it?”

“Probably.”

Dorian sighed loudly. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye, I promise I won’t lay a hand on you.”

Klaus made another impolite sound. “Of course, now I believe you.”

When Dorian didn’t reply, he opened his eyes. The blond had shifted to the far side of the bed and was fuming, his arms crossed and his lips tightly closed. Klaus was more willing to approach an angry Eroica than an amorous one; he rose smoothly and took the empty half of the bed, propping up his pillow as a barrier between them. Dorian watched him settle, then with a small smirk placed his own pillow next to it, end to end.

“Feel safe now?” he inquired sweetly.

Klaus patted his gun. “Yes.”

“Oh, go to sleep,” Dorian muttered. He closed his eyes, thereby missing the baring of Klaus’s teeth that sometimes passed for a smile. Klaus followed suit.

It was late afternoon when he awoke, rather surprised to find Dorian sleeping innocently, their barrier intact. He left the bed carefully to check the window, but although the men outside were different, their purpose was the same. Klaus resigned himself to a continuing wait. The smells from the shop made his stomach growl, so he ate two of their remaining biscuits, then washed up, wishing he had a razor. He hated being unshaven.

Finally he returned to the bed for lack of anything better to do. He didn’t lay down, sitting up instead and watching his annoying companion sleep. It was one more irritant that the frivolous thief could forget their predicament and rest peacefully, leaving the details of their escape to the Major. Nothing seemed able to disturb Eroica’s beauty sleep.

He really was beautiful, Klaus reflected reluctantly, studying Dorian from a closer distance than usual. In repose the blond looked almost angelic, pale lashes long against his cheeks, pink lips very slightly parted. If he needed a shave, it didn’t show, unlike Klaus’s own dark stubble. If it weren’t for Dorian’s prominent nose and chin, he could pass for a woman. Klaus snickered to himself at his next thought: if it weren’t for the mass of ridiculous curls, Dorian could pass for a man.

If one overlooked the earl’s clothing, his jewelry, his cologne... Klaus sighed, wondering why he didn’t turn his thoughts in some other, more productive direction. Instead he kept staring at the thief, imagining what he would look like in respectable clothes, with a necktie perhaps. He’d already proven he could talk in a masculine tone. If he would only cut his hair, remove the earrings...

Without thinking about what he was doing, Klaus reached out to push Dorian’s hair back behind his ears. The face thus exposed seemed very young, almost as young as his most junior agent, Z. Normally Eroica’s brashness and confidence made him appear older, Klaus’s equal. At least, Klaus was used to sparring with him as an equal. Now he conceded that his nemesis was not at all what he pretended: Dorian was an amateur, not a trained agent; he wanted to play a dangerous game, but he wasn’t prepared to lose. He hadn’t seen the violence and death that Klaus had, and Klaus hoped he never did.

Dorian stirred a little, causing one errant curl to fall over his forehead. Distracted, Klaus ran it through his fingers, noting in passing how different it was from his own dark hair; it was fine and soft and bright, and he suddenly couldn’t imagine his thief without it. He couldn’t imagine life without his thief.

Z was disciplined and obedient, but he didn’t seek his superior’s company. He was loyal and resourceful, but he wouldn’t have been able to pick those locks, nor would he have managed to swipe any food. Neither he nor any of Klaus’s other men went out of their way to see the Major, to spend time with him, or to learn about his life, as Klaus knew Dorian had done. Only the irrepressible earl offered friendship and support, and unconditional love. Klaus had never had that before; he frankly didn’t know how to accept it.

Until now it hadn’t meant much coming from a self-centered queer. Suddenly there was more to Dorian than that, and his love was something that Klaus could value, something he even wanted. This was not the first time Klaus had come close to dying in the field. He expected to end his life on a mission, and suddenly he knew he didn’t want to die without ever knowing the intimacy of love. This Dorian, without his usual affectations, was someone he could like, appreciate, even trust, or so he hoped.

Never for a second had Klaus doubted that Dorian would get them out of that prison. Never for an instant did he worry that Dorian would desert him, or not be able to keep up, or pitch a fit for being confined in a cold, uncomfortable attic. He expected nothing but professionalism and efficiency from his thief when it was needed, and he always got it. Sitting quietly beside the blond and brilliant earl, Klaus admitted that it had been years since Eroica had let him down. Aggravated him, yes, but that was unavoidable given their personalities. They’d clashed at virtually every meeting... until now.

“Dorian,” Klaus whispered, half hoping he wouldn’t awaken. If the fop was back, with nothing in his head but flirting and innuendo, Klaus would retreat and never venture this close again. He held his breath.

“Yes?” Dorian said softly, too alert to have been asleep. If he’d been awake during Klaus’s caresses, he didn’t admit it. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Klaus stayed where he was when Dorian kept his eyes closed. Light from the window was fading, to Klaus’s unspoken relief. If he was going to bare his soul, he’d rather it not be in the merciless light of day. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes. But I’m still worried about you. I guess that will never stop.”

“You could stop loving me.”

“No, that I can’t do.” Dorian’s mouth curved in a rueful smile. “When we’re apart, for months at a time, I think ‘maybe it’s fading now, maybe I’m falling out of love with him’. Then I see you again, and it’s back as strong as ever, maybe stronger.”

“Despite everything I do to dissuade you.”

“Yes. It’s overshadowed by the other things you do. The wonderful things that you don’t do to attract me, that you do just because you’re you.” Dorian opened his eyes and his tender gaze met Klaus’s, completely honest.

Klaus could not make himself back away. He wanted to get to know this man better, the one usually hidden under frippery and glitz. For the first time in his life, he wondered what it would be like to take Dorian in his arms, to be embraced by him. It would be wrong and perverted and disgusting, but undeniably nice to feel the blond’s long, strong arms around him, to hold a body that was firm and tall rather than soft and small, to rub his face against masses of golden curls that smelled of roses, to kiss a mouth that knew how to kiss back. It would be exquisite to make love to someone who honestly loved him.

To Klaus’s horror, he felt his body responding to the image. He shifted to hide the fact, but Dorian was still watching his face.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you were killed, Klaus,” he was murmuring. “I don’t even want to think about it, because...” He hesitated, then plunged in. “I’ve never invested so much time and energy in anyone before. I never thought I’d want to. But with you... You’re the main thing in my life now. If you died, I’d be lost.” He shrugged a little. “Until you I kept things light, you know? My relationships were brief, my feelings weren’t deeply engaged. I liked it that way. I don’t like knowing that I’d go to pieces if you were killed.”

Klaus surprised himself by picking up Dorian’s hand. It was slender and smooth, like the rest of him, and it tentatively returned his grasp. “Why can’t you always be like this?” he whispered.

“Like what?”

“Quiet and honest. Real.”

Dorian didn’t pretend not to understand. He frowned slightly. “I can’t afford to always be like this. It’s too vulnerable.” He met Klaus’s eyes. “This Dorian couldn’t take the insults you usually throw my way, he’d crumble.”

“I wouldn’t insult this Dorian the way I do the other,” Klaus admitted.

“Can he depend on that?”

Klaus held his gaze. “Yes.”

Dorian produced his familiar radiant smile and reached up to touch Klaus’s hair again. “This Dorian wants to love you and keep you safe from all danger,” he reminded him.

Klaus hesitated, then moved even closer. “This Dorian is welcome to try.”

Their embrace was slow, but not awkward. As Klaus had come to expect, Dorian fit perfectly into his arms, surrounding him with warmth and love. He could again hear Dorian’s heart pounding, but this time he imagined his own was outpacing it.

They lay back, shoving the pillow barricade to one side. Klaus, on top, lowered his face to Dorian’s, grateful that the other was being uncharacteristically passive. He smelled good, and felt good, and when their lips met, Klaus was astonished at how good he tasted. He feared that the blond would object to his growing beard, but Dorian seemed to enjoy the roughness, pressing closer as the kiss went on and on. Klaus did not try to end it, although he couldn’t help wondering what the next step would be. He was dependent on Dorian to lead him, but he trusted Dorian in this too.

Their clothes quickly became a nuisance, Dorian’s flimsy excuse for a shirt suddenly an annoying barrier. Klaus wanted to feel his flesh, not silky cloth. He had to restrain himself from tearing the buttons off in order to get to Dorian’s skin.

“I want more of you,” he gasped, reluctant to move his mouth from Dorian’s long enough to speak. In response, Dorian loosened his grip on Klaus and opened his own shirt, then pulled Klaus’s sweater up. His hands found their way underneath, electrifying Klaus’s skin wherever he touched. Klaus’s own hands were less adept, more curious and demanding, but that seemed to be what Dorian wanted.

“I’m all yours, Darling,” Dorian swore, and for the first time Klaus heard it as an endearment rather than an affectation. He immediately tried to devour the man, starving for all Dorian offered.

They didn’t dare undress completely due to the uncertainty of their situation, but pants had to be opened, more skin exposed. Klaus sucked in his breath when Dorian’s fingers wrapped around his erection. As talented as the thief’s hands were for burglary, his true skill was clearly in a more personal arena. His touch carried Klaus to the edge, and having his own hand guided to Dorian’s satin member pushed him over; Klaus came with an uncontrolled cry, muffled at the last second by Dorian’s shoulder. He continued to hold Dorian as the other brought himself to completion, aghast that he was doing so, and enthralled by the feel and sight of the blond’s orgasm. Afterwards Klaus could think of nothing to say, so he simply claimed his lover with another long, insistent kiss.

“I love you so much,” Dorian whispered once he was allowed to speak. “Does this mean..?”

“I don’t know,” Klaus replied, but he did know. He’d never met a man willing to do such things for him. Truthfully, he’d never met a man willing to pursue him once his temper and personality were known. Dorian was one in a million, or one in a lifetime. “Yes., he said, too overcome by emotion to contemplate the consequences. He had to take this chance. “I love you too.”

Seeing tears of joy come to Dorian’s eyes, Klaus pulled him closer. They lay in each others’ arms, resting, and on the Major’s part, reconciling himself to what had happened. Every time his old sense of morality rose to complain, all he had to do was stroke Dorian’s arm, caress his cheek, and it was outvoted. When Dorian returned the gentle touches, Klaus knew his former prudish principles were silenced forever.

They stayed together for the rest of the long night, talking softly at times, but mostly just holding each other. Towards morning they shared sex again, and it was even more exhilarating than the first time. Klaus wasn’t familiar with the further possibilities of sex between men, but he had a strong inkling that anything they did would be electric and satisfying.

Dorian was dozing when the sun began to rise. Even by its weak light he was beautiful, and Klaus had to harden his heart in order to leave the bed. Restoring his clothing, he went to the window. The empty street below seemed inevitable.

“Dorian,” he called quietly. “Wake up. It is time to go.”

“Go?” Dorian echoed, then came fully awake. “The KGB are gone?”

“Yes. Come on, we must be out before the household stirs.”

Klaus turned to stare out the window. He heard movement behind him, but it stopped several feet away and seemed to be holding its breath.

“May I touch you?” Dorian finally asked in a neutral voice. “Or are we back to normal?”

He got his answer when Klaus pulled him into a hard embrace. “Nothing will ever be normal again,” the German stated somewhat bitterly. “I will not give you up. But we cannot let our relationship be known. For your safety. For my position. For--”

“Yes, Darling, I know all the reasons. God knows I’ve considered them often enough.” Dorian smiled, reassured and apparently ready to work around them. He initiated a kiss that went on far too long. Klaus had to force himself to pull away.

“We don’t have time to discuss it now,” he reminded his partner, but he was reassured too. Between them, there was little they couldn’t accomplish. “We will meet later. After we have returned to Bonn and been debriefed.” He almost added a warning not to mention their non-NATO activities during this mission, but concluded it wasn’t necessary. Beneath that mass of hair was a brain as sharp as his own. “When I am not on duty.”

“The Dorian you love will be awaiting your call,” his thief promised.

They didn’t bother to erase evidence of their stay in the attic. Once they were safely out of the country it didn’t matter whether the KGB discovered their hiding place, and some small perverse part of Klaus liked the idea of their nest remaining as it was. Noting Dorian glance back with a private smile, he suspected the other felt the same.

Outside the shop the old town was still, its inhabitants sleeping obliviously. Klaus led the way down deserted streets, gun drawn, but he didn’t anticipate any new danger. In half an hour they would reach the rendezvous point, and from there he could contact his men. In another hour, the mission would be over. Thinking that, he actually laughed.

“What is it?” Dorian asked, moving to his side and looking around in puzzlement.

Klaus smiled at him. “It just occurred to me that this was the most successful mission I have ever conducted.”

Surprised, Dorian laughed too. He took Klaus’s hand for just an instant, then released it and resumed his place behind the Major. They went on unmolested and without conversation, while Klaus’s thoughts raced ahead.

He had a feeling that keeping their relationship secret was going to be a challenge. For one thing, his subordinates would wonder about the change in their commander; none of them had ever seen him happy before. Knowing their sordid little minds, he expected they’d guess the truth, as would Dorian’s men. They could all be trusted, for one reason or another, to keep quiet. The rest of the world was another story.

Suddenly catching the scent of roses behind him, Klaus decided that the rest of the world was not his concern.    


End file.
